43. Chapter 43

Chapter 43

"I am not afraid of the darkness. Real death is preferable to a life without living." Vasco da GamaThe well-wisher’s words barely grazed her conscience. The sounds of laughter, claps, and clicking glasses were muffled. Isabel couldn’t process what had happened, her brother’s change of heart, her change of fortune, what it all meant. All that pierced the fog clouding her thoughts was that Henrique was in the palace and that she must find him. On rubbery legs, she disengaged herself from the throng. She knew where he would be.

The secret door gaped open. Instead of moonlight spilling from the glass panels, sunshine warmed the carpet above the threshold. Isabel halted, waiting for every part of her to catch up—the princess, the woman, the warrior, the peasant, the timid and the bold, the moral and the passionate.

Collecting all the pieces of herself, she crossed into the garden.

A soft breeze ruffled the grass and the daffodils. The sky was the blue of myth. The pond reflected the acacias, a mirror for dragonflies. Heart speeding, she scanned the willows.

Henrique sat among the flower beds, his back to her, an arm flung over his knee. Warmth radiated from her chest, a burst of energy so strong it dazzled everything that was not him. Weak, dizzy with relief, with joy, she lowered her weight by his side. She held to the grass blades, restraining herself from curling close to him, from tasting the sun on his lips.

"It was you," she whispered.

"No, it was—" He didn’t finish. He raked his fingers through his hair and kept his gaze on the lake. Then he sighed. "No more lies. Yes, I spoke to Luis. But we agreed he wouldn’t tell you."

She peeked at him, and her breath caught. Not only had he saved her from scandal, but he also had planned to keep it a secret. He did it selflessly, not trying to gain her favor. Instead, he had tried to protect her image of her older brother. For that, he had been too late. Luis had already shattered her trust. “Thank you.”

Was that why he came? To shield her from scandal? Her chin dipped down, and she took a shuddering breath, her throat clogged by unspoken words. Did the invisible threads bonding them die? Now, a rift was in its place, filled with uncomfortable silences and unshed tears. Pain bloomed in her chest, exquisitely acute, the pain of being close and unable to touch. Cleaning up her tears, she shifted to leave.

He held her hand. Isabel stopped breathing. He turned to look at her for the first time, and the emotion she saw in his blue eyes drowned her. The bond shimmered into life, snapping into place, thread after thread.

She opened her mouth to speak, and her words collided with his.

He touched her lips, silencing her. "I’m a selfish bastard. Forgive me?"

"I love you, too." A laughing sob escaped her throat, and she flung her arms around his neck. "I should have said it before I left, and it’s been choking me ever since."

He pulled her into his lap. Isabel kissed him desperately, holding both sides of his face to keep herself grounded in reality, afraid he would vanish.

"Shh. I’m here now. I won’t leave you again."

The excitement, the travel, the dread, the fear of losing him, of war, crashed down on her, and she cried against his neck. He massaged her back in the soothing way she loved so well.

"My brave, beautiful princess. My fierce Joan of Arc."

"I’m not fierce, and the heavens know I’m not brave. When I had to leave you, it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It tore me in two."

He cleaned her tears and kissed the top of her nose. "You showed me patriotism comes in different shapes. Canastra’s patriotism is greed for power. Luis’ is self-interest. For Pedro Daun, it is love, but not for the country. To Alfonso—"

"I know you hate him, but he loves Spain. I convinced him to desist by appealing to his pundonor."

Henrique kissed her fingers. "His pundonor is another name for vanity and pride. Do you know who is the only being I know who possesses true pundonor?"

Isabel shook her head.

"You." Before she could reply, he caressed her cheek. "It wouldn’t be a sacrifice if it didn’t hurt."

Isabel closed her eyes and nodded. Nestling in Henrique’s arms, she exhaled a contented sigh. She had never allowed herself to consider a future with him. But now, the possibilities opened to them, and she rolled them over in her mouth, savoring their taste. Tart, forbidden, their improbability was the stuff of myths, legends, and quests for king and country. She decided she rather liked it. Yes, she would keep him. It would unleash hell on their heads—her brother would be against it, even Parliament. The press might condemn the alliance. Let them try to separate them—she was more than ready for this fight.

Then she sat up straight. "What about your plans to leave Portugal? Your desire to be valued for your scientific work? I couldn’t forgive myself if—"

"Some prudish princess showed me I love Portugal, and if I’m not recognized for my work as a scientist, then the work will have to be reward enough." He shrugged and grinned one of her beloved Henrique’s smiles.

She brushed her nose against the folds of his shirt and caught a distinct smell of brine. Only then did she notice his state of undress. No shoes, no coat. "Why are you wet?"

"I came from the river."

"You swam the Tagus?"

He nodded, looking smug, gorgeous, and none the worse for the dunk.

She glared at his unrepentant face. "You could’ve been killed. Turned into food for the fish." Or worse, for a saucy fisherwoman.

"Nonsense. What would happen if the hero refused the call of duty? How many delicious princesses would fall prey to hungry mythological creatures? I could not allow it, could I? Those creatures from myth are notorious for their bad digestion, and princesses are too difficult to swallow."

Laughing, she swatted his arm. "I will let this pass, just this once, mind you, since a Tagus crossing will be a delightful addition to our myth."

"What myth?"

"The myth of our courtship, of course. Our grandchildren will be entranced by the perils and adventures I endured to save the country and gain the heart of the most handsome male in the kingdom." She tapped her chin. "Hmm, what should I call it? Isassey, like Homer’s Odyssey, or Isabelyad?

"Impudent wench. You will steal all the credit?" He slapped her buttocks.

Isabel squealed. "How dare you slap the royal rump, sir?"

He tackled her to the ground, rolling atop her. Her back met the grass, unleashing the rich scent of wet earth. After sleeping so many nights alone, his weight was delicious, precious, and warm.

Grinning, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners, and he tugged the hem of her dress, exposing her stockings to the elements. "You are right. I’d much rather kiss it."

They laughed and tasted each other’s lips, and then he cradled her face. "Before we embarked on our adventure to Spain, I was drifting. Life had become a pleasure ride. From the first day I met you, you’ve put me on a track toward something. I thought it was Dio’s idea of a hero’s quest. It was not. You brought meaning to my life, Isabel. Do you know what is the truth about myths? People don’t need myths to give meaning to their lives when they have love."

“A princess lives to inspire.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she grinned. "All my life, I feared the only way to defeat death was to live a life of duty, leaving a legacy for others. Now, the only person I wish to live my life for is you."

He kissed her, a kiss to seal fates. They rolled playfully, their bodies renewing their acquaintance. When Isabel wrestled her weight atop him, caging her arms above his head, her hip bumped into something stiff.

It was a gift box. The rickety wood had two holes above it and a bow made of twine.

"What is inside?"

Blushing, Henrique tried maneuvering her away from the gift. "It’s nothing."

Isabel lifted herself from atop him and kneeled over the grass. She poked the box, and an angry shuffling came from inside.

Henrique looped his arm around his bent knee and, lowering his chin to his chest, he gazed at her from below his eyelashes. "I enlisted help in case I had trouble securing your forgiveness."

Heart speeding, Isabel opened the lid and gasped. Two downy creatures, not larger than her tiara, lifted their beaks in unison, staring at her through beady black eyes. "You brought me a couple of ugly ducklings?"

Henrique reached inside the box and scooped them in his hands. Gently, he placed them on the grass and pushed them in the pond’s direction like a mother hen. While they watched the chicks waddle to the pond, the sunset glinting through their gray feathers, Henrique pecked her cheek.

"They are not ducks."

Startled, Isabel looked at eyes so blue as to be transparent. They hid nothing from her beyond an invitation to dive into its depths. Luckily, she now knew how to swim.

"No?"

"They are swans, and swans mate for life." He kneeled at her feet and kissed the back of her hand. "Princess Isabel de Orleans, will you marry me?"